


The "I love the Avengers and I'm bored on quarantine" Book of One-shots || REQUESTS OPEN

by the_creative_lie



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: F/F, F/M, Gen, Multi, One Shot Collection, Other, and basically every avenger, if its not already tagged just ask me, its just not my cup of tea sorry, listen im bored and going insane, or dark!characters, the only thing i wont do is like rape or incest
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-07
Updated: 2020-04-15
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:27:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23522293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_creative_lie/pseuds/the_creative_lie
Summary: Are you locked up by yourself? Are you locked up with your family? Do you have NO LOVE IN YOUR LIFE?Then you're me. Ah, well. At least something good can come out of this. I'm writing some reader insert one shots! If you feel like requesting anything, go ahead! They can be romantic, platonic, whatever!
Relationships: Avengers Team/Reader, Bruce Banner & Reader, Bruce Banner/Reader, Clint Barton/Reader, James "Bucky" Barnes/Reader, Loki (Marvel)/Reader, Natasha Romanov (Marvel)/Reader, Peter Parker/Reader, Peter Quill/Reader, Steve Rogers & Reader, Steve Rogers/Reader, Thor (Marvel)/Reader, Tony Stark/Reader, Wanda Maximoff/Reader
Comments: 58
Kudos: 60





	1. Requests are open!

Requests are open! Pretty much everything is in the description or the tags. Let's try to make these shitty times a bit less shitty with some Marvel goodness!


	2. Quarantined (Steve Rogers x reader)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based on a request by Renee. Steve and the reader are quarantined together and dancing around their feelings for each other, so Buck and Nat decide to take matters into their own hands.

“This is the fourth time I’ve found you like this,” you hear Steve say. Honestly, how does he manage to be cute even upside down? From this angle, his disapproving frown almost seems like a smiley face.  
Oh right, upside down. You’ve been laying on the couch, legs up, head dangling over the ground, for the past twenty minutes or so. You are certain your face is ruby red right now and you’re starting to feel a little bit dizzy, but the whole world is on quarantine goddamit, and you’re bored.

“I heard sending a bunch of blood to your brain is supposed to make you smarter,” you justify, coming out of your not-so-comfortable posture and laying your now throbbing head on the armrest of the couch. He sits on the other end, lifting your legs and putting them back down on top of his knees.

“And who exactly told you that?” he asks amused.

You look away, rolling your eyes at your own stupidity. “Bucky,” you mumble.

“And you believed him?”

“No. Well, yeah. But I’m not smart, that’s why I was doing this in the first place! That was the whole point!”

“Seriously, Y/N. It doesn’t work.”

“How do you know? You’re not smart either!” you protest. His nose wrinkles and his mouth forms a perfect O.

“Excuse you?” he exclaims, pretending to be offended.

You smirk. “I said what I said, Rogers.”

His eyes twinkle with mischief and you frown, confused. Before you can ask him what the hell is going on in that blonde head of his, he grabs your legs and throws you off the couch. You groan from the floor and send him a glare. He giggles. Captain America giggled. And he looks so pretty when he does that. It’s kind of unfair.

“I’m going to try to clean out my closet for like, the seventh time this week,” you huff “Feel free to come help me, if you’re bored.”

“Sure. I’ll be right there,” he smiles, as he watches you leave for your room.

From the kitchen, Bucky Barnes just stares in utter disbelief as his best friend sits on the couch with the goofiest grin plastered on his face, looking at the empty spot you just left beside him. He can tell Steve is head over heels for you, and Nat has already told him about your huge crush on him. He can put two and two together, but apparently you lovebird idiots can’t, because you’ve been dancing around each other since the quarantine started. And he’s starting to get bored too. So, he does the only thing that could make this lockdown more interesting and gives himself a mission. Well, him and Nat. There’s no way he’s doing any of this without her help.

**********************************

“I can’t believe you still have this,” Steve laughs, as he unfolds an old t-shirt that was rolled into a ball in the back of your closet. It’s a very old shirt, and to be fair, you bought it as a joke. It sports a very discolored picture of his shield on the front.

You snort. “I just wear it to bed sometimes. It turned out to be incredibly comfy.” That’s totally true. I mean, yeah, it could also be the fact that it reminds you of him, but no. No, definitely the levels of comfort the t-shirt provides are what drove you to grab it in those five minutes when you packed as fast as possible before leaving the Avengers Tower for good, when the Accords mess was in full swing and when you decided to follow Steve Rogers to the end of the world and back.  
It’s been a few months since that, and yeah, you are fugitives now, but honestly? It’s not so bad. You, Steve, Bucky and Nat got yourselves a small house on the mountains for the time being. You’re near a small town that you go to when you need supplies. Truth be told, it wasn’t like you’d go out a lot before the quarantine started, trying not to show your faces too much and all that, but you could still go for a walk, buy dinner somewhere. But isolation hits differently when it’s not by choice.

“I still don’t get why you bought it though.” He places down the t-shirt and takes a sip off his mug. Currently you are both sitting on the ground, in your room, drinking coffee and laughing at your poor fashion sense. Hey, a lady can only do so much when running away from the law okay?

“I just thought it’d be funny,” you say, folding some jeans and starting to make a pile. “Also the lady at the store didn’t recognize me at first, and that was hilarious. I got to pretend to be one of your fangirls, remember?”

His face goes red and he covers it with his hand, embarrassed. “Of course I remember. _I was there_. You asked for a selfie with me and started to fake cry. ”

“HA. I forgot about that part.”

“I remain impressed by the fact that you can cry on command, by the way. ”

“What can I say, Stevie? I’m an actor,” you say theatrically, standing up and bowing as if on stage. Steve starts clapping and wooing.

“Then I’m your number one fan,” he replies. You stare at him, stammering for a moment before regaining composure. You two are always doing this, even more so now that you are forced to spend basically 24/7 together. You flirt, he flirts back, someone blushes. He says an amazing one liner; you’re left with your heart racing and your stomach doing flips. But it’s just friendly banter, right? It’s just the fact that you’re locked up together and that the only two other humans you guys see on a daily basis are Russian assassins.  
Speaking of Russian assassins, your train of thought gets interrupted by Nat screaming from the living room that her and Bucky are about to facetime with Sam and that you two should get your tushies to the couch.  
Yeah, she actually said tushies. Isolation is doing things to her.

“Sam, babe, how you doin’?” You shout, climbing over Bucky to get the good spot on the couch. He bats a hand at you, annoyed, and you stick out your tongue at him. He sucker punches you in the arm but just when you’re about to pull his hair, Steve easily lifts you up like you’re made of paper and scoots you away from Buck. Sometimes you forget how strong he actually is.

“Behave, children. Uncle Sam is on the FaceTime.” You lock eyes with Nat and you both let out a laugh.

“ _THE_ FaceTime?” you ask, giggling.

Steve frowns, confused. “Isn’t it called the FaceTime? That’s what you said last time.”

“It’s just FaceTime, Steve. No _the_ ,” Nat corrects him.

 _“Man, c’mon. We talked about this, Rogers. You did the same thing with the Google and it drove me crazy for like a month,”_ Sam chimes in from the screen.

“Yeah, Steve. Get with the times, old man.”

“Buck, we’re the same age.”

“Yeah, but I’m hip and modern.”

You roll your eyes. “The fact that the words _hip and modern_ just left your mouth disqualifies you immediately, Barnes.”

He huffs and returns his attention to Sam. “How about you, Birdman? How you holding up?”

_“Things are pretty chill, I guess. I’m using the FaceTime to have online meetings with the therapy groups. It’s not the same, and of course we’d wish we could have a more personal contact as usual, but we’re doing what we can, you know. Trying to get used to the new normal.”_

“Is the FaceTime going to be a thing now?” Steve groans, “Fuck, this one’s sticking right? I’m gonna regret it?”

“Language,” you say, trying not to laugh. He just glares at you.

Sam is, thankfully, not a fugitive. The government considered (after a few pulled strings and a trending hashtag on _the_ Twitter) that he could be pardoned of his crimes, based on the fact that he did a lot of important work on the community; and that his participation on the whole Accords debacle wasn’t so big, and therefore, could be swept under the rug.  
You four, on the other hand, were not as lucky. After all, here you are, aren’t you? In the middle of Germany, or Canada, or who knows at this point.

_“Anyways, guys, I just wanted to check on you. Y’all know this things can’t last very much or you risk exposure. I’m glad you’re all okay, and I’ll try calling again as soon as I can without raising suspicion. Take care!"_

A chorus of goodbyes and take cares erupts from the couch, and the screen turns black.

You get up, stretching your back. “Well, I’m gonna take a shower. If you guys are hungry just have dinner without me, I’ll have something later,” you state, heading to the bathroom you all share.

The only problem with you leaving is that Steve is now left alone between two giddy assassins, who both look at him like they’re Cheshire cats. Frankly, it’s terrifying.

Steve gulps, considering running and risking his life by breaking the quarantine instead of dying here on this couch, because he already knows what’s coming. Every time you’re gone and the three of them are alone, the conversation always shifts to…

“So, Y/N huh?”

“Smooth, Buck.”

“You’re the talker, woman, you do the talking!”

“And what are you supposed to be?”

“I’m the muscle. In case he tries to run away.”

Oh no, there goes his only plan. Poor Steve.

Natasha turns to him and stares him down, “Rogers, when are you going to tell that woman you’re in love with her?”

“We- I- huh. Whenever I have time.”

“You’re on goddamn quarantine. There’s nothing but time.”

“Yeah. Loads of time.”

“Seriously, if only you removed your head from your tushie for a little bit you would see she clearly feels the same.”

“That’s right. Head, tush. That’s a no-no.”

“This is your chance, Rogers. Y/N’s super stressed out with the locked down, she’s practically climbing up the walls. Do something nice for her, and tell her how you feel.”

“Be a gentleman, yo.”

“Barnes I thought we agreed I’d do the talking.”

“Alright, damn. I was just trying to help. Also what is it with you saying tushie now? ”

_“IT’S A QUARANTINE THING!”_

Before things could get any further (or worse, for all that matters), Steve stands up and shuts both super spies up, “Okay, fine. I’ll do it. You’re right. Just, huh. Go to your rooms, please? I need to think.”

Natasha smirks at him, “Sure thing, dad. Come on, James, let’s go watch some crap TV show in my room.”

Steve looks around, panicked. And then he has an idea.

*********************************************

After getting out of the shower and putting on some fuzzy pajamas and, why not, the infamous Captain America t-shirt, you head to the kitchen in search for some late night dinner slash snack. The lights seem to be out, so you assume the gang already ate and went to bed. But what surprises you when you get to the living room is the tiny table where you usually have breakfast, simply adorned with a white tablecloth and one of those crappy candles you guys keep in the bottom drawer in case there’s a blackout.  
And standing next to it all, in his own fuzzy pajamas, is Steven Grant Rogers, looking like he’s about to pass out but still standing, and holding a piece of paper.

“Steve? What’s all this?”

He just starts to ramble, “Okay so. Huh. I’ve been trying to say something to you for quite a while now. And lately the voices in my head, that sound a lot like Bucky and Nat by the way, would not shut up about it. And I just thought, you know what? We’re on a goddamn quarantine. The world apparently has its own plans, and does whatever it wants, it’s not gonna wait for me. So fuck it. I’m saying it.”

“Saying what?” you breathe out, heart pounding on your chest.

“I’m in love with you, Y/N,” he smiled softly, raising his eyebrows as if to say _and I guess there’s nothing I can do about it._

You’re speechless. He stares at you and starts panicking, “Oh God. Huh, it’s okay if you don’t feel the same, I- This was all so stupid, and I just put you on the spot and- oh no, now you’re trapped with me because of the quarantine. I’m so sorry, I’ll just stay locked in my room so you won’t have to see me and Bucky can just pass me some crackers through the door-”.

You cut his rambling, “Steve. It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not, I shouldn’t have listened to them-”

“Steve, I’m in love with you too.”

He looks up at you like a deer in headlights, “You are?”

“Yeah,” you shrug, smiling.

He frowns, “Why?”

“Must be all that blood going to my head, ” you close the distance between you two and wrap your arms around his neck, “Guess it just made me dumber.”

“I’ll have to thank Bucky for that.”

“Could you stop talking about Barnes and kiss me already?” he laughs and leans down to kiss you, sweet and gentle, and suddenly everything makes sense.

You separate a little, arms still around him and look around.

“What’s all this?”

“Well I was going to ask you out, but because of the quarantine we can’t really _go out_ ,” he explains, sheepish, “So I thought we could _go in_ , you know?” He lets go of you and points at a plate on the table, “Also, we´re having sandwiches for dinner because we haven’t gone on the supply run. And since I can’t buy you flowers- ”, he hands you the piece of paper, a bouquet of wild flowers beautifully drawn.

“Steve, these are so pretty. This is perfect, it’s all perfect,” you beam.

He brings out a chair for you, “Shall we?”

You laugh. Maybe quarantine is not that bad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hoped y'all liked it! It's my first piece of writing in english, so I apologize if there are any mistakes. I really enjoyed this request, I'm a sucker for Steve Rogers. Let me know what you thought of it!  
> XOXO the_creative_lie


	3. Caffeine (Loki x reader)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based on a request by @pennydandelions - the reader is a stubborn mess of a person who survives on caffeine and spite, and Loki takes care of her.

You’ve been typing this report for what seems like forever and you still can’t get it right. In all fairness, this is not meant to be your strong suit. You know how to kick butt. You know how to cause a scene. You _don’t_ know how to change the stupid font size on this goddamn thing. Suddenly, the whole screen goes black. Then white.   
  
“What the fuck?” you whisper to yourself. You frown. “How-”  
  
You start to hit every single key, as if that’s going to do anything.   
  
“C’MON YOU PIECE OF SHIT. WORK.”  
  
“You know that’s only making it worse, right?” Loki shows up next to you. Or maybe he was already there. How long _has_ he been there? You look at your surroundings and realize that the lights are pretty much out, and that everyone seems to have gone to bed.   
  
“Well excuse me if I don’t take computer advice from a three hundred year old alien god from space,” you huff. “What time is it?”  
  
He takes the computer from your hands and puts it down on the coffee table.   
  
“Darling, it’s two am.”  
  
Your eyes widen.“Ah, fuck. I didn’t- what-”  
  
“Have you eaten anything?” he asks, annoyed. He always has that face around him. You tend to test his patience. _He_ wants to take care of you, so he doesn’t understand why _you_ don’t want to take care of yourself.  
  
“I… huh…” you ramble, still confused and trying to connect all the dots of how exactly you let four hours just pass you by without noticing. “Coffee.”  
“That’s not an answer,” he frowns. “It’s also not food. Let’s go, I’ll make you something.”  
  
You run your hand through your face, frustrated, and start padding towards the kitchen after him. You go to make yourself another cup of coffee, but Loki just snatches the mug off your hand with a scowl and puts it back on the cupboard. He goes to open the fridge and you could swear you hear him angrily muttering at himself.  
  
“You can’t keep extending yourself like this, you know?” he says quietly. He takes out a few eggs and some other stuff from the fridge and starts to whip up some scrambled eggs and toast. You stare at the whole process, a little bit confused, trying to figure out how _Loki_ , of all people, even _knows_ how to make scrambled eggs.  
  
“I was just finishing that stupid mission report. It’s not that big of a deal,” you justify, taking a seat on one of Tony’s fancy high stools and laying your elbows on the bar table the team usually has breakfast on.   
  
“Today is the mission report. The other night it was gun practice, and then cutting up newspapers to make that frankly creepy murder collage on your bedroom wall.” He sets the steaming plate in front of you, along with a fork, a napkin and a bottle of water. You practically inhale it all, suddenly realizing how hungry you were.  
  
“That’s for a case and you know it! I’m investigating!” you complain, through a mouth full of toast. He stares at you, a mix of disgust and concern in his features. You know exactly what he’s thinking, because he always looks at you like this.  
  
 _How have you managed to stay alive all these years, you idiot?_   
  
“It’s weird and pointless and _you_ know it.” He takes a seat beside you. “You haven’t had a proper lead in months. The other day you taped an ad for a birthday clown on it.”  
  
“Because he could be disguising as a clown!”  
  
 _“To kill a high ranking CIA agent? In Berlin?”  
  
_ You stare at your empty plate. Well, when he puts it like that…  
  
“I think I need to sleep”, you relent. He smiles, smug. “Shut up.”  
  
He puts away the dirty dishes and walks you to your room, a steady hand on your lower back. When you get there, you change into your pajamas while he clears your bed of papers, notebooks and pens you have scattered around and sets them on your even messier desk. He lets out a sigh.  
  
“Hey, now. Don’t judge. This is how my brain processes things”, you say, coming out of the bathroom. “I don’t say anything when you fold your socks.”  
  
“What’s wrong with folding socks?” he exclaims, offended, hands in the air.  
  
“It’s weird. Not to mention unnecessary. Who’s gonna notice if you have wrinkles in your socks? Socks don’t work like that”, you argue, getting under the covers as he turns off the lights.   
  
“It’s not about the wrinkles, it’s so I don’t lose the pairs.” You can see his scowl even in the darkness, or at least imagine it to perfection.  
  
“Then just put them together, like in a ball.”  
  
“That ruins the elastic.”  
  
You roll your eyes. _“That ruins the elastic”_ , you repeat mockingly in a silly voice.  
  
“You’re annoying. Go to sleep.” He kisses your forehead and heads for the door.  
  
You call out to him before he can go, “Hey, Loki? Thanks. For taking care of me.”  
  
“Of course, kitten. There’s nothing I would rather do”, he replies softly, and closes the door behind him.   
  
Loki stands in the hallway for a moment, resting his forehead on your door and mentally cursing himself. _There’s nothing I would rather do? What the hell was that?_ Normally he couldn’t care less about the life of the mortals his brother calls friends. But when it comes to you he’s like a lovesick puppy, and as much as he tries he can’t hide it. Not to mention you don’t make it any easier by not taking proper care of yourself and working yourself to the point of exhaustion.   
  
He hears a small chuckle coming from behind, and he turns around to see his brother standing on his own doorframe, amusement in his eyes. Of course, his room is right in front of yours. He forgot.   
  
He stands frozen for a moment before composing himself and just like that, he returns to his cold posture.   
  
“What are you doing there? It’s the middle of the night”, he snaps.   
  
Thor just laughs. “I could ask you the same thing, brother. What brings you to Y/N’s door?” Then he justs stares at him, waiting for an answer.  
  
“That’s none of your business, you big oaf.”  
  
“I never took you for a caring one, Loki. Are you finally taking a liking to Midgard? Or maybe to one specific Midgardian? ” He crosses his arms and lifts his eyebrows.  
  
“I don’t know what you´re talking about”, Loki replies, mirroring his stance.  
  
“If I didn’t know you any better, I would think you’re in love, brother”, teases Thor, with a smirk.  
  
“Me? In love? With a Midgardian? That’s foolish. You’re…you’re a fool. Nothing but a simple, daft fool.” Loki rolls his eyes and scoffs. Not his best work, but he’s nervous.  
  
“You might be the God of Lies, Loki, but not even you can cover this up. I think it’s a good thing. Y/N is already a good influence on you.”  
  
“Yeah, well. You’re wrong. And a fool.”  
  
“You’ve already said that.”  
  
“I was just making myself clear, so your underdeveloped brain could understand me.”  
  
“Yeah, sure. I’m going back to bed. Good luck with huh, _not being in love_ , Loki.”   
  
_“Shut up.”_ He sighs, exasperated, resting his back on your door. With his head on his hands, he lets out a frustrated sound. _  
_  
One door closes and another one opens, right? That’s exactly what happens, because as soon as Thor goes back into his room, you open your door, sending Loki directly to the floor.  
  
“Are you in love with me?” You ask, matter-of-factly, staring at him from above.  
  
He panics. “I… huh. No. Well. Kind of. Not really. Why?” he then closes his eyes, defeated. “Yeah,” he whispers, “yeah. You heard that?”  
  
“Yup. Listen, I’m in love with you too and all that, but I’m also really tired and I think the fact that I haven’t slept is really starting to hit me because I’m having a hard time just standing here. So, huh. Just come to bed and we can discuss this in the morning, you doofus.”  
  
And just like that you go back to sleep, leaving him on the ground with his heart pounding on his chest, unsure of what exactly happened. He hears a loud laugh coming from Thor’s room and that sends him back to his senses.  
  
 _“Shut up!”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys liked it!! I usually write for Steve, so this was a nice change of pace. I hope I got Loki´s character right! It's a little bit short, but I thought it was sweet. If you guys want a part 2 let me know!! XOXO


End file.
